


Unwitting Advances

by hypocretin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypocretin/pseuds/hypocretin
Summary: In which Jonathan Sims a horrible communicator; forgets to mention he's ace until it is horribly embarrassing for everyone involved.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 10
Kudos: 113





	Unwitting Advances

The creak of door-hinges and feet dragging heavy upon the thin, hard carpet stir Martin from his unintended slumber, journal and pen still sat upon his chest where he had laid them when his eyes had grown too heavy and hands too weary to endure even the effort of placing them at the nightstand.

The bed rocks, its old frame whining with effort as Jon collapses beside him, clinging scents of parchment and magnetic tape trailing after. Martin does not even open his eyes as he sets aside the moleskine and rolls to close the space between them.

Left unchecked, Jonathan Sims would work himself to an early grave, so often does he habitually push himself to further and further hours without rest. Most nights it is Martin who must go and fetch him from the corner they have set aside for his study, coaxing him with gentle pleads and bribes of fresh-brewed tea—but this eve he had fallen to the quiet lulls of the countryside early, and so the hour had grown late and his wonderful fool had stretched and worked himself to a breaking point.

He slips his fingers along the sides of Jon’s face, all bristling and rough from days left untended, and draws him gently into a kiss, prompting drowsy reciprocation and a low, contented hum from the exhausted Jon, who finds in that contentment inspiration enough to gather his strength to turn and meet his partner.

Martin toes the leather heel of Jon’s shoe and begins the fumbling task of prying them off, unwilling to quit his hands from the unusual roughness of his jaw. Jon laughs at the effort, lips curling, impossibly fond, into a smile against Martin’s, and joins the effort with ratifying zeal; his hands in Martin’s hair and his own feet kicking and fumbling inelegantly at the scuffed oxfords.

He leans himself slightly harder against Martin, propping himself upon his partner’s figure for a more advantageous position in their endeavor, one knee against the mattress between Martin’s thighs so as to anchor it. If Jon notices at all the sound of bashful surprise that passes from his beloved’s mouth to his own as he presses his body against him in this way, he considers it only appropriate acknowledgement of his achievement, as the first shoe slips from his heel and falls tumbling to the floor.

He makes a prideful sound of satisfaction with his success, contentedly enjoying this game of theirs as he shifts and presses further atop Martin, beginning anew with the left shoe, now.

Believing it to be rather against the spirit of their game, he does not open his eyes as he continues, and so does not notice the burning red of his partner’s flushed expression. Nor, in his cheerful pursuit of their task, does he note the way in which Martin’s motions—the subtle gesture of his hips and gentle clawing desperation in his hands—build not at all to the grand quest of Removing Jon’s Shoes While Kissing.

It is not until the second shoe finally drops and tumbles to the carpet beside the first and Jon gleefully hums his triumphant _“a-ha!”_ through Martin’s mouth that he notices the flustered rapture and desire he has inspired in his partner, realization descending upon him all at once.

It is so suddenly and with such stuttering, manic alarm that Jon pulls away that for a moment Martin recoils in fearful apprehension, anxious that perhaps he had harmed or mistreated his beloved in some way.

And so it is there, upon his back, still partially beneath the weight of his partner and head swimming with the hectic glow of base desires that Martin listens—attentively, if somewhat flustered—as Jonathan explains for the first time in his awkward, frenetic, stammering way his disinclination for sexual intimacy.


End file.
